First came the lettuce. I’ve learned how to spell lettuce, with a U instead of an I I I I always want to put an I, I’ve typed out the word in text messages and dating app flirts and written long scrolls to stuff into bottles that I will throw into the Mighty Mississippi (spell right, sing the song -P-P-I) as to get an answer from the river currents. WHAT DO I DO WITH ALL THIS LETTUCE?
The head on Tinder said tahini. That was the component I was missing. I use dating apps as a way to field culinary questions, since 37% of user mention that they enjoy cooking and over the years I’ve gleaned a solid homemade yogurt procedure, coffee to water ratios and pasta sauce pointers. Dating isn’t intrinsically a waste of time, it’s an information exchange! And that information can be anything from container garden tips or the city’s best taco spots or the size of someone’s genitalia or their specific sexual sport interests. Know what you want and go for it.
Since the boxes started arriving, I have been slurping down swimming pools of oil-and-vinegar dressings and couldn’t stand one more. I am against ranch and yes, I am aware that is a political statement in the Midwest. AGAINST RANCH. Once I spotted a profile that declared a love of cooking, I fielded my most pressing question: WHAT SAUCE LETTUCE. NO RANCH. He Who I Swiped Right recommended mixing lemon juice and tahini together with a bit of minced garlic. I added some of the cilantro that had been tossed in the box last week. It needed some herbage to keep it light and the leaves bent and crushed with a few pulses of the stick blender. The tahini trick got me to nibble through ten fistfuls of mixed greens and the rest of the butter lettuce and I snuck in three full radishes, sliced thin for a bit of crunch. Oh fuck. The radishes. I have 13 red radishes and 7 Japanese turnips to eat by sundown, for the next box arrives on the morrow. Time to get to swiping. Hope there is a pickling expert out there looking for love at the bottom of a mason jar.